


One Year's Time

by catbee_3



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, Gender-Neutral Apprentice, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampire AU, Vampire! MC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 17:29:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbee_3/pseuds/catbee_3
Summary: Desperation drives Julian to seek out an encounter with a dreaded creature of the night. But, in the decrepit mansion, by the glow of the fireplace, he finds something he never expected - compassion.





	One Year's Time

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my friend @Ash-Soka (Tumblr) for helping me with this AU and fic!

The night was made from salvaged pieces of summer that had been left behind and stitched together with the cold thread of winter. Storm clouds hung over Vensuvia like a quilt, thick and dark. The rain fell from the heavens in sheets, each drop cold and sharp, carried westward with the wind. Anyone with sense was tucked away; however, through the woods, a man walked a winding path, carried forward towards the manor on the hill. The walls around the gloomy manor were unkempt, covered in ivy, the iron gate, creaking as the wind-tossed it from left to right. Inside the grass had grown tall, scattered with swords and lances that spiked from the earth like headstones. Yellow bones picked clean and left to bathe under the sky nestled themselves in the foliage wherever they had been dropped or kicked and into their final resting place. The man stood at the gate, his vision blurred by the rain. The path was overgrown, its stones barely shown, but he followed its fading direction and to the tall and dark wooden door where he pulled the bell over and over, desperate. Behind him, the thunder cried it’s mournful plea, and on the other side of the door, the lock was turned. The door groaned as it was slowly opened and there stood an individual, dressed in black, well-groomed and handsome. They’re gaze met the man’s and they smiled, “How unexpected. A visitor at my door in the dead of night. Come in, my dear, you look frightful.”

Around him was the cacophonous noise of the storm. Trees tossed in the harrowing wind, their leaves pelted by the daggers of rain, and thunder rolled once more through the heavens. He paused for only a moment before he took the first step. He continued forward, over the precipice and into the lion’s den. Behind him, the door shut, and its lock toppled back into its hold. 

In an attempt to make polite conversation, the man cleared his throat, and began, “I can’t thank you enough,” he huffed, “I am terribly sorry to bother you so late. I found myself lost in the woods when the storm struck.”

The other laughed, and it was the first warm thing he’d felt in ages, “Please, you have not interrupted anything but a glass of wine and a novel, Mister…”

“Devorak.” He answered, but with a grin he continued, “But please, call me Julian.”

“Well then, Julian,” they began, “Follow me, and I shall find something dry for you to change into.”

The other turned on their heel and began towards the grand stairwell, giving the simple instruction to ‘come’ as they went. Julian followed, “And what shall I call you?”

“What shall you call me?” They asked, and their laughter rang again, soft, “You may call me anything you like, my dear. I have no name I remember.”

"That you remember?" He parroted, vexation drawn on his face.

The other only continued forward, "Everything is subject to lose, my dear."

It was silent after that. He did not remark on their somber answer. Their steps echoed through the cobweb-ridden halls. Julian was quick to notice that nearly everything was untouched, coated in a thick layer of dust that muted any of the once vibrant colors. Candles lined the walls, flickering dimly; however, each window was shut, not even allowing the beacons of light the lightning left to be seen. The chandelier shook as the thunder rolled. They arrived into what seemed to have once been an entertainment room, and it was then that his host excused themself. Left to his own devices, he removed his overcoat, as well as his outer layers, leaving only his shirt, its buttons largely undone. Only a moment after, they returned clothes in hand as well as a bottle and a match box. 

“So tell me, Julian,” They began, offering the other the fresh set of clothes. He took them. Their material was rich and soft, clearly a luxury, “What were you doing in the woods so late?”

The other turned to the fireplace in the center of the wall and began to stack the wood on to the hearth. Pulling the cork from the bottle they poured the wine onto the kindling and struck it ablaze with a match. The fire was quick to light the room, and in its warm glow his host looked almost ethereal, he thought.

Turning away, he removed his shirt, and began to redress himself, “I was talking a walk.” 

“I see,” they hummed. He was in the process of buttoning the pants he was given when they drew closer, their sunless skin bathed in orange. He’d hardly even had the shirt onto his shoulders when they took his hand, “Come… Sit by the fire. You’ll catch a cold.”

Julian turned to face them, and as he did, they took his other hand and held it lightly. Gently, they pulled him to the fire. In front of the large mantle sat a rather comfortable looking leather chair. He sat as he was guided towards its seat. The warmth of the fire prickled his skin, the heat seeped into him, to his core. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

“Better?” They asked, taking a seat on the arm of the chair, their legs resting against his. Julian met their gaze and he felt that in no world would the fire in front of him ever feel as warm or as striking as they were. His heart stirred to life, taking to a rather quick rhythm. “Very much.” He mumbled, his face flushing all shades of crimson.

“Good,” they smiled, reaching to his hair and pushing back the wet locks. Their nails raked against his scalp as they did so. He couldn’t help but to close his eyes and let out a sigh, leaning back into the chair. Their hand fell to his neck. He gripped the arm of the chair but didn’t stop them. Their hand was cold as it caressed his skin, falling onto the base of his neck, then under his collar where it stayed. 

“You’re very trusting having just come into a stranger's home by chance,” the other cooed, “A part of me thinks you weren’t as lost as you claim,” They spoke, their voice soft and sweet like windchimes on a pleasant day. Julian found his gaze veering from them, falling onto anything but. Usually, he prided himself on a silver tongue, quick and witty, but perhaps now wasn’t the most normal of circumstances. Reluctantly, he answered, “Perhaps not.”

Their weight slunk onto his lap, and their hand onto his chin. He met their gaze, caught off guard by their boldness, but he had no time to voice any concerns as they spoke, their voice low like a whisper in reverence, “You have a face like a statue, my dear. Chiseled and well defined. Something an artist would pour years into and only be met with results that pale in comparison.”

He felt it in his chest first, like something heavy had just clogged his lungs. Something that was warm- no, hot- like smoldering charcoal, crackling in a flame. His face felt the sting next, unbearable heat. Then it was the same feverish feeling much further down, where the other’s weight only added fuel to a flame. 

“I-” He began, but it caught in his throat. He sat there dumbly, unable to speak, his jaw hung loosely as the other just smiled kindly. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He closed his eyes as the other leaned forward, pressing their lips to his. It was slow and sweet and for a moment it felt meaningful until he reminded himself it wasn’t. The other drew their lips onto his jaw, following it towards his ear where he felt teeth bite his earlobe and pull. Tentatively he let out a breathy moan, biting his lip. The other continued down his neck, licking and biting and kissing until they came to the base of his neck. They paused and took in a deep breath, exhaling onto his collarbone and putting his hair on end. Their hands slid up his chest, one finding its way down to his bicep and the other pushing his shirt off his shoulders. For the second time, he tensed, gripping the arm of the chair as sharp teeth drew along his skin. 

“Julian,  _ my dear, _ ” the way they spoke sent a rush of heat through him. There was no mistaking their enjoyment, it was positively lude, “Tell me this is what you want… will you?”   
  


He didn’t dare open his eyes, for fear he’d have to see them and say it. His throat was suddenly dry and at the moment, it was absurdly difficult to speak, but he managed, in a soft croak, “I do.”

The moment their sharp teeth dug into him he was overwhelmed with a mixture of pain and pleasure, both in vast amounts. Something between a moan and a yelp escaped his lips as he felt the venom coursing through him. It was a sting like no other, exquisite and harrowing as it spread. His breaths came short as his heart raced, he hardly even was aware of the sounds he made.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be, in fact, he was  _ enjoying _ it. It was erotic, it was painful, it was so many things at once. It was a relief. He just had to wait. Gazing up to the ceiling, he noticed how finally it was carved, it was nice. He came to notice black dotting the corners of his vision, and he shut his eyes once more.

He hardly felt as the fangs left his neck, but he did notice when the other sat up. Eyes wide open, he stared as they licked away the blood that stuck to the corners of their lips. It was a vision to be sure, but as much as he was enamored, he was confused more than anything. “Why’d you stop?” He asked, frustration leaking into his quaking voice.

The other wiped the pooling blood from his neck with their thumb and licked it clean, “Well I wouldn’t want to hurt you, dear. I am already afraid I may have been somewhat eager given that you’re still cold.”

He didn’t expect that. He didn’t  _ want  _ that.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” He asked, clearly downcast. 

This time it was the other was confused, their brow furrowed, “No,” they huffed, seemingly offended by the accusation, “I haven’t killed anyone since I was a fledgling.” They paused, as a grim realization dawned on them, “Did… Did you come here thinking…”

He was quiet. He looked away from them.

Gently the other placed a hand on his cheek, “My dear, you have so much left to live for.”

“You don’t know that!” He snapped, his voice catching in his throat into something like a sob. His eyes began to well. He couldn’t bare how they looked at him, how their voice was so… kind. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into their cold touch.

“But I do,” they argued, “You have the whole world available to you. You have so much that you can do, things you can see. My dear, giving it all up… it’s not worth it.” They finished, and he simply couldn’t bear the compassion that flowed so readily from their lips. The understanding that wove its way into each word. Why a stranger would offer him anything of the sort was a mystery he didn’t care for. It hurt much more to hear soft affirmations whispered to him, it felt too much like home.

“Will you stop,” He bit through gritted teeth, “I don’t need you to give me a speech about the roads ahead of me. You don’t know what ails me. No promises of purpose will mend what is broken. Don’t pretend that you can empathize with my pain.” 

“I wasn’t trying to--” They began, only to be caught mid-way by the man’s continued moaning.

“It's not as if you would understand.” He finished, moving the other off of him.

Thunder cracked around them as the rain grew louder against the thick walls of the manor. “I see.” The other said, their voice lost of all its charm as they stood, “Perhaps I wouldn’t. A monster so vicious as myself could never understand the complexities of grief. Perhaps I am so far gone that I feel nothing as I wander empty halls for years on end with no company, no reprieve. I would never understand what it feels to be so lost within one’s own mind that escape seemed a one-way door.”

Julian stood, mouth agape, ready to speak, before the other continued, “But what I can understand is how easy it would be for you. Right? You come to me, and I bear the weight of your murder. I take care of your body. I return to the empty halls knowing everything while you’re blissfully unaware. I see how that is  _ tactical  _ for you!”

Guilt has a funny way of suffocating its victim. It is similar to how water fills a drowning man’s lungs. How it became something you choke on but are trapped within. How any warmth in the room is drained away.

“I’m sorry,” Julian whispered. 

The other turned to him, “I don’t want you to be sorry,” they whispered, “I want you to make a vow to me.”

“A vow? What kind of vow?” he asked as they drew closer.

“Vow to me that you’ll give the world time. If in a year’s time you feel the same as you do tonight, then do what you wish, but the world doesn’t stay the same. Things pass. Things change. Weather whatever storm you’re in.”

“I…” he began, suddenly ashamed, suddenly sorry, suddenly very alive. Words failed him as his eyes blurred, he could only nod as he covered his face.

“Sit with me,” they offered, slowly guiding the sobbing man to the seat. They didn’t talk for a long while, settled in amiable silence, their company kept. When words did come into fruition, it was slow and messy as stories unraveled. Heartbreak, a tale of unrequited love that burned into its way into ideas like worth and purpose. Things that pushed and pushed until they come undone. It was likely the sun had risen by the time they fell back into silence, the storm had broken and the clouds had found homes in different cities. The fire had fallen away, only a glow of what it had been.

“Perhaps,” Julian began, suddenly sheepish, “I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

The other continued aimlessly tease at the fabric of his sleeve, “I’ve sat alone for many years now, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish, dear.”

Silence wafted over them, before he spoke, “Then… perhaps just the day.”

The other nodded tiredly, as they leaned against his shoulder, “Whatever you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, I really love to read what you have to say!!


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